


Your Promiscuity Alludes Me

by Why_SoSer1ous



Series: Michael Guerin's Jealousy [2]
Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Anger, Angst, Bisexual Isabel is my lifeforce, F/F, Intrusion, Isabel Evans is a player, Jealousy, Lesbians, M/M, Michael is annoyed at Isabel's sex life, Pissed Off, Sadness, hostility
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-18 04:55:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29112651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Why_SoSer1ous/pseuds/Why_SoSer1ous
Summary: After a drunken night out, Isobel arrives to tell Michael all about it.Less than appreciative of her late-night drop-in, Michael attempts to get her to leave, until she mentions that Alex was also at the same bar with Forrest.
Relationships: Alex Manes/Forrest Long (mentioned), Isabel Evans/Original Female Character(s), Michael Guerin/Alex Manes (mentioned)
Series: Michael Guerin's Jealousy [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2131287
Comments: 2
Kudos: 45
Collections: Roswell New Mexico ▶ Michael Guerin / Alex Manes





	Your Promiscuity Alludes Me

Michael had awoken to the sound of a constant banging in his head. It took him by so much surprise that he fell off the side of his bed. 

“Shit,” he cursed. His face flat against the Airstream floor. 

The banging continued as he came to. Putting the heel of his palm to his forehead. 

“Michael―Michael, are you awake?”

He let out a frustrated groan as the banging continued from the door. Isobel would have just let herself in had she not known he slept in the nude. “I’m coming in unless you open the door in the next twenty seconds.” Though, maybe she would have. 

He grabbed his jeans from the floor, going commando, before stumbling over to the door and pulling it open. Isobel stood, grinning like a maniac, with a flushed complexion and a smear of lipstick that had definitely started the night pristine, resulting the night in a complicated mess. Despite this, she was glowing. Michael didn’t need to ask to know she’d gotten lucky. 

The other thing he noticed was that it was still pitch black outside. Devoid of stars, which was on account for his vision impairment at the sudden interruption to his sleep. He rubbed his eyes again and saw a blurry outline of the constellations which contrasted well with Isobel’s gleaming appearance. When he looked back at her, he put his arm up, blocking her from the doorway and waited for an explanation. 

“You will never guess what I’ve done, tonight!” she said, easily pushing past him.

He fell back against the tabletop having been forced to let her pass. She obviously hadn’t noticed he was still shirtless and the buckle of his jeans were still substantially open. Not that she’d care on a normal day, but Michael was annoyed nonetheless. He pulled out his phone he’d left in his jeans pocket from the day before and scoffed when he read the time. 

“It’s three in the morning, Iz. What the hell are you doing here?”

“Well,” she said, hesitantly sitting down on the unmade bed. “Planet Seven―what a joyride!” Michael rolled his eyes at her but came to stand opposite so he could at least pretend he was paying attention to what she was telling him. 

“Her name was Lucy,” she said with a big grin across her face. “And at first I was like, ‘I don’t really want to touch that’, cos’ she was way in the back of that closet.” 

“And you corrupted her?”

“Oh, yes! She was standing outside the bar like a deer caught in headlights,” Michael crossed his arms over his chest, waiting for the inevitable. “Then, she called me a dyke!”

Michael stared at her, mouth agape. Speechless. “What?!”

“Yeah, I know right. I clearly swing for both teams.”

Michael knew better than to ask her if she was OK. She was clearly fine. But, he found himself involuntarily muttering under his breath, “But―but, what…” he leaned back against the wall so he had something to lean onto without the urge to fall over again. He was still half-asleep and could feel the muscles in his thighs start to shut down. 

“So I walked up to her and stood in her face,” she continues, almost forgetting Michael was even there. “I told her that usually, yes, I would go there because I’m haplessly attracted to repressment. And it was difficult cos’ she was an obvious nine, and as you know I don’t go for ten’s because I’m a ten and I can’t hook up with anyone as gorgeous as this,” she gestured to herself. “So, I grabbed her friend by the hand and took her into the bathroom instead.”

Michael had uncrossed his arms, leaving them limp at his waist, and was primarily pushing most of his weight against the wall. His bare back cold against the wall. Isobel hadn’t looked up at him at all since she sat down, and only now glanced up, expecting a reaction. 

“Well?”

“Well, what?”

“Well, how good am I?”

He stared at her, a little lost and mostly bored. “Good job, Iz. You broke one girl and shacked up with the other. Your promiscuity alludes me.”

“Says the bisexual alien,” she erupts. He raises his eyebrows at her. “Oh―wait.”

“Iz, not to sound like an asshole, but could you get the fuck out.” 

Michael was exhausted. He’d had a long day and was not in the mood to indulge in Isobel’s unpublished erotica that she would have definitely recounted to him had he let her. He points to the bed next to her and gestures to his T-shirt that was strewn across haphazardly. She picks it up and upon giving it to him, says, “But the girl I did hook up with was very good with her hands.”

“Come on, Isobel!”

He pulls the shirt out of her hands and slips it over his head. Shaking his head in annoyment. Then, he finally does the buckle on his belt, cursing obscenities under his breath. 

She laughs. Ignoring him was her speciality. “The details escape me. It’s all a bit of a blur, now. But I remember this barbed wire tattoo on her hip that I kept kissing, or was it her inner thigh?”

Michael put his hand to his face. “God damn it,” he muttered again. 

“No, she definitely had tattoos, but I didn’t see most of them because she was on her knees a lot.” 

“What was her name, then?” he sighed, playing along. 

“Haven’t got a clue. Vanessa, maybe. Something beginning with ‘V.’” she smirked. Michael let out a hefty groan that was instantly preceded by, “Yes! That’s what she was doing!”

“You know, I’m this close to leaving my own home,” he said.

“Surprised you’re still listening.”

“I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.”

He shook his head a little too ironically before Isobel stood up from the bed, smiling.

“Wha―why are you smiling?”

She stepped forward, leaving roughly three inches between their faces when she moved in closer, causing Michael to lean as far back as physically possible so she couldn't accidentally slip and smear her matted mess of makeup all over his cheek. But, instead, she chose to lean into his ear and whisper to him. Intoxicated beyond belief. 

“I guess you don’t want to hear about Alex and his date then,” enunciating ‘date’ to the point of making Michael quiver with jealousy. She leaned back again, giving him another grin, almost smug this time, trying to hold back laughter and concentrate enough to not fall.

This time Michael clenched his fists, pushing Isobel back down onto the bed. She expected it but crossed her arms and legs upon sitting back down. “Talk,” he said, on the verge of eruption. 

“He was there,” she said, “with the hunk who had either blue or green hair. I couldn’t really tell from the lights,” Michael puts his fist up to his mouth, trying not to curse. “I mean, he was a bit short, but I’d have gone there if he swung that way. Alex clearly liked him. They were up against the wall in the backroom for the men’s. I’m pretty sure I saw his hand down his―”

“Shut up! Just shut up!”

The door of the Airstream suddenly flew open and Isobel looked towards the open air, concerned. She turned back to Michael who was annoyed at his sudden outburst. He walked over to the door, stepping out so he could pull it back inwards all the way. “I’m sorry,” he said, pressing his forehead against the cold door. 

The sudden eruption had allowed a stream of cold air to enter the small trailer, and Isobel shuddered under her coat. 

“But you did want me to tell you about it―”

“And now I don’t want you to,” he half-shouted. “Can you just leave, please? It’s late.”

“Michael?”

Isobel didn’t stand up, but patted the side of the bed next to her, indicating he should sit down. He lifted his head up from the door and opened his eyes to look across to her. She wasn’t smiling with hostility anymore. It was closer to empathy, which Michael despised. But, if he was being honest, he needed.

He moved to her right and sat down next to her. Leaning his head against her shoulder and closing his eyes. He let out a sigh. Something he’d held back for longer than one lonesome night. Isobel wrapped her arm around him and let him break down into her. Her drunkenness subsiding so she could comfort him.

“I’m sorry, Michael,” she said. “I didn’t realise how much it would bother you.”

“It wasn’t supposed to be this difficult,” he said. “I was going to let him be happy with someone else, but this―this isn’t what I wanted.”

“How long has it been?”

“Six months.”

“And how long did you date Maria?”

He stopped. Lifting his head up from her shoulder and looking her straight in the eyes. She wasn’t blinking, she wasn’t smirking and she wasn’t holding back anything. He hated her sometimes, especially when she was right. 

“Longer,” he said, hesitantly. 

“Well, how do you think Alex felt? Watching the two of you and then having to go home, alone?” he didn’t reply. “He was sad and frustrated and did you ever wonder why it took him so long to move on?”

“Because of me.”

“Because of you, dumbass!” 

Michael sighed again, looking towards the ceiling. He hadn’t let himself cry because he knew Isobel would have scolded him for it. Instead, he closed his eyes and thought. He’d let himself carry the weight of a love he’d lost on his shoulders for too long. He’d made himself believe that Maria had been the person he needed amongst the death and the panic and the pain, but what if he’d been wrong? Alex had always been there, in the back of his mind. Every time he was with her. Every time he wasn’t. Every time he’d kissed her and been with her and every single time he’d asked for Alex’s help, he’d been there. Every step of the way. 

And all those answers about his mom. He wouldn’t have gotten any without Alex. He’d have lost any chance of knowing that there was always hope, even in small forms. And that his mother and Alex’s great-uncle had the same cosmic connection as he’d had with Alex. 

Still has. 

It was too much to wish for something that he couldn’t have, and he’d let Alex have his freedom without him. Let Forrest take the reins. And let them be happy, together. 

“I just didn’t think I’d be so―” he drifted off.

“Jealous?”

“No!” he shouted. A little too quickly. “Upset. I was going to say upset.”

“Sure you were.”

He gave her a dark frown which she received greatly with a smile of her own. It was too much to care about his pride in the matter when he was clearly lying to himself.

“I just miss him, Iz.” 

“I know, Michael. I know.


End file.
